A Warm Place
by DadIWriteGayPorn
Summary: After Harry loses his first Quidditch match, he goes to console Oliver Wood. What he didn't expect to find was the boy in tears in the shower. NSFW WARNING


"LUCKY THE GROUND WAS SO soft."

"I thought he was dead for sure!"

"But he didn't even break his glasses. . . "

Harry could hear people talking fuzzily around him as he slowly drifted into consciousness, their voices sounding muffled and distant at first. He became vaguely aware that he was lying stiffly on some sort of small bed. Perhaps a cot?

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life!"

Harry could hear his heart pounding in his ears. A dull throbbing was consuming his body, his sore muscles. scariest. . . . Thing. . . Scariest thing! Dementors! Harry thought as his memory came flooding back to him.Dementors at the Quidditch match!

Yes, that had been it! He'd been playing Quidditch during a hard storm against Hufflepuff! Their Captain and Seeker, prettyboy Cedric Diggory, had been racing Harry to the snitch when those dreadful, cold creatures had drifted out onto the pitch. They must have made Harry faint again. He'd fallen from his broom! That explained the soreness. . . .

Harry opened his eyes timidly. His glasses were slightly crooked, but he could still see. He was indeed lying on a cot in the Hospital Wing. He was surrounded by people, though he could only just make out their outlines.

"Harry, you're awake!" Came a familiar anxious voice that was full of relief.

Harry blinked his eyes and reached up groggily to push his glasses back on his face correctly, and the people gathered round him came into focus. His eyes first fell on his two best mates, Ron and Hermione. They were shivering slightly and drenched head to foot from the storm, looking as if they'd just come from a swimming pool. Ron's usually fiery red hair looked much less eye-catching in it's dampened state.

Beside Hermione and Ron stood five tall people in scarlet robes: Fred and George Weasley, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. Harry's fellow Gryffindor Quidditch Teammates had come to make sure he was alright! They all looked just as wet as Ron and Hermione, but with the added aspect of being caked in mud and grass. Fearful looks lay on their pale faces.

"What. . . What happened?" Harry asked, struggling to sit up.

"You fell off. . ." Fred said, for once in his life sounding serious. "Must've been fifty feet! More, I'd wager."

"We thought you'd died!" Alicia said, sounding stuffy-nosed and heartbroken. Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"No," Harry said, leaning back against the headboard. "I mean what happened with the match? Did. . . Did we win? Are we doing a replay?" The knot in his gut told him the answer before anyone said anything.

"Diggory got the Snitch," George heaved a strained sigh. "Just after you fell. When he saw what happened he tried to say it didn't count, that we should have a rematch. Unfair circumstances because of the Dementors, he said. But in the end Madame Hootch decided that he'd won and that was the end of it."

Harry was at a loss for words. This was the first time he hadn't caught the Snitch. It was the first time he'd lost a match. Harry looked away from the others, cheeks turning red, chest seizing up slightly, and instead gazed out a tall window by his cot. The only sign of the raging storm from during the match was the hazy grey fog blanketing the grounds.

"How long was I out?" Harry asked curiously, trying to distract himself from his thoughts.

"Not long," said Hermione. She leaned forward and gripped Harry's hand tightly in her own. "When you fell Dumbledore cast a spell to slow your descent. You didn't hit the ground hard at all."

"But it looked much worse than that," Ron said, wiping at his freckled brow with his damp sleeve. "And if Dumbledore hadn't been there, I'm sure you'd have been dead!"

"Or at least much worse than this," Angelina murmured. Katie Bell nodded next to her.

"But Dumbledore took you to Madame Pomfrey immediately," Hermione continued. "You've only been here for about a half an hour. The storm cleared up almost as soon as the Dementors left."

Just then, as if she'd heard her name, Madame Pomfrey appeared, pushing through the group of soaked Gryffindors.

"Oh, good, you're awake," she said in a brisk tone. "Here, eat this!" She thrust a bar of Honeydukes chocolate into Harry's hand, knocking Hermione's away in the process.

"You've taken no serious damage for once, Potter. You hit the ground softly enough, although that was in part due to it being muddy; I took the liberty of taking some of it off," she waved her wand dismissively, "but you'll still want to get yourself cleaned up here soon. You've broken no bones, dislocated no joints, and you're free from concussions. You'll be sore, but alright. After you eat that chocolate you can leave."

The nurse bustled away from Harry and his friends, heading across the room for a fourth year girl in a cot similar to Harry's who had somehow grown a single purple elephants ear on her head. Harry could see Fred and George eying it thoughtfully.

"Harry, eat up!" Hermione said. Then we can lea-"

"Where's my broom?" Harry interjected. "My Nimbus 2000, what happened to it?" Harry slowly unwrapped the bar of chocolate.

Everyone exchanged dark looks. No one seemed to want to speak first. Harry's already knotted stomach churned with foreboding.

"What is it? Where's my broom? Hermione?" Harry stared pleadingly at her. His free hand tightened on the sheet covering his cot.

"Well. . . Well it. . . It. . . Oh, Harry! You fell off and it flew into the Whomping Willow!" Tears began to leak from her eyes. Tears of sympathy for him. Harry felt his heart drop into his raucously turning stomach. That broom had always served him well. He'd never lost a match with it! At least, not until now. . .

"Is there- ?"

Hermione shook her head.

"You know the Willow, mate," Ron said. "It doesn't like things flying into it. The broom never stood a chance."

Harry nodded slowly, feeling slightly numb. "And where's Oliver?" He asked, noticing for the first time that his friend and Quidditch captain wasn't there with the others. "He didn't fly into the Willow too, did he?" The joke sounded feeble and hollow coming from his hoarse throat.

Fred gave a pained smile. "He's still down at the pitch, in the showers. We think he's trying to drown himself."

"He was beating himself up pretty bad after we lost the match," George said with a scowl. "We tried to talk him into coming with us, but he wouldn't come. Looked pretty shell-shocked."

Harry sat fully upright suddenly and swung his legs off the cot. He stood up, groaning slightly at the soreness of his muscles.

"Where are you going, mate?" Ron asked nervously.

"I'm going to find Wood," Harry said, taking a step towards the door to the hospital wing. "Alone," he said strongly as the others started to follow him. "I want to talk to him alone."

"But. . . Harry," Hermione said nervously, "Sirius Black-"

"Isn't like to be anywhere near the Quidditch Pitch after a hundred Dementors swarmed over it." Harry said cooly. "I'm going to find Wood. I want to use the time alone on the way down to the Pitch to think."

The others backed off, looking defeated, and Harry turned to leave the Hospital Wing. His mind was numb and thoughtless as he walked through the castle's various corridors and down it's many staircases. He reached the Entrance Hall sooner than he would have expected, and stepped through the open door out into the cool, foggy grounds.

Harry began heading down the muddy slopes towards the Quidditch pitch, eating the Honeydukes chocolate as he walked. Warmth immediately began spreading through him. As his body temperature improved, so did his mindset. Gryffindor still had a shot at the Quidditch Cup if they worked hard and didn't lose another match. Harry knew how important it was to Oliver that they win. This was his last year at Hogwarts, his last year as the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. This was his last chance to win the cup, and Harry was damn well going to give it to him!

He'd need a new broom first, of course. He doubted McGonagall would be willing to buy him one like she had done in his first year, but that didn't matter. He had more than enough money in his Greengots vault to buy a decent broom. Of course, Harry wouldlove a Firebolt! But that was like to be much pricier than a Nimbus.

As Harry walked toward the Quidditch Pitch, it's shape slowly growing larger and clearer through the fog, his sore muscles began to ease. The mist and light rain helped wash some of the mud from Harry's body too. Harry ate the last of the chocolate as he arrived at the door to the Gryffindor changing rooms, feeling completely refreshed and much happier. He pushed inside.

The room he walked into wasn't very large, but it was sufficient. Lockers similar to those one might see in the muggle world lined the walls. A large mirror was set into the opposing wall from Harry, and solid-looking wooden benches were set around the room.

Harry closed the door firmly behind him and started heading toward the door to the shower room set into the wall on his left. He noticed a pile of scarlet robes the same as Harry's own thrown haphazardly on the floor near the closest bench to the shower room door.

Quickening his pace, Harry made haste to the shower room, wrenching the door open and stepping inside. There was a pale mist hanging in the air thickly as Harry closed the door back behind him. It was similar to the one outside save that this one was warm. Harry could hear water running from one of the many shower stalls set into the stone walls of the room, but from his current vantage point he couldn't tell which one.

"Oliver?" Harry called in a low voice, eyes darting round.

No one answered.

"Wood, are you in here?"

When still only the sound of water greeted Harry's ears, he began to walk slowly forward, making his way to the back of the shower room. The sound seemed to be coming from the very last shower stall on the right side. As Harry approached it he began to hear another sound. He stepped closer to the fogged door of the how're stall, listening closely.

It was as he had feared. Muted, low sobs were coming from the stall. Harry increased his speed, now heading directly for the last shower.

"Oliver?" He said again, his voice shaking slightly. But still there was no reply. Harry drew up to the glass shower door, now clearly able to hear the weeping from the other side. Harry could see the foggy outline of a person through the steamed up glass. They appeared to be leaning against the wall and into the hot spray of the shower.

Harry reached out and rapped softly on the glass with his knuckles, certain that this would finally draw Oliver Wood's attention. But when even that elicited nothing but more sobs, Harry grew worried.

" **Oliver!?** Harry called one last time. When, as he'd expected, no answer came, Harry reached for the door handle and pulled it open without hesitation.

It was again as he'd thought. Oliver stood before him, completely naked. His body shone sleekly in the light of the room as hot water ran over him. The older boy had his arms folded against the shower wall and had leaned his head against them. The steaming water from the shower was pouring directly over Wood's face, which was screwed up, eyes closed as choked sobs poured from his mouth.

He seemed to sense the door had opened, and finally spoke, though he did not open his eyes. "G-go away! Leave me be."

"Oliver! Harry gasped. "Oliver, you've been in here long enough. Everything is alright. Let's get you out of here!"

If he heard Harry, Oliver showed no sign. His body shook slightly as he continued crying. Harry made a descision and stepped forward into the shower stall. He reached a hand out to grab Wood's shoulder, but almost immediately jerked it back, swearing under his breath. The water was scalding hot! Harry could scarce touch it! He took a step back.

Wood, who somehow had been standing in the boiling stream for God knows how long, finally seemed to register that Harry was there. He pulled his head out of the shower stream and opened his eyes. Wood looked blearily over at Harry and a light seemed to turn on in his head.

"H-Harry?"

"Yes! It's me! Wood, come on, you need to get out of there!"

He shook his head slightly. "Harry. . . You're alright? You're alright!"

Wood lurched forward suddenly and fell into Harry's arms. Harry caught the boy, feeling the hotness of his bare skin as Oliver dampened the front of Harry's robes. It felt as if the Seventh Year boy had a raging fever over his whole body! What was more, Oliver's body was a frightening shade of scarlet. It was a deeper red than even the time in Harry's first year when Wood had trained for so long and hard he came away with a blistering sunburn.

"Bloody hell, Oliver!" Harry grunted as he worked to hold the naked boy upright. "What's gotten into you?!"

"I th-thought. . . I thought I'd lost. . ." He trailed off. He was clearly suffering from heat exhaustion.

Harry turned Oliver with difficulty and threw the boy's arm over his shoulder. He stumbled forward slightly, stretching out an arm to turn off the blazing hot shower, then turned and began to trudge back toward the changing room, careful not to let Wood fall.

Harry was bewildered. He knew that Oliver was devoted to wining the Quidditch Cup. He knew this was the last chance Wood had to win the cup before leaving Hogwarts. But he'd never known Oliver's obsession ran so deep that he would find the team captain crying feebly under the stream of inordinately hot water.

But with every step Wood seemed to get better. Soon Harry no longer had to carry the boy, though he kept Oliver's arm round his shoulder just in case. The two teens left the shower room and entered the changing room. It was much cooler in there, but Wood was still hot to the touch. Harry and Wood hobbled over to the nearest bench, and Wood sank down gratefully onto it, his manhood on full display for Harry.

"I thought I'd lost. . . " Wood murmured again, looking at Harry as if to see if the younger boy would stare at his privates.

But Harry gave it hardly a glance before speeding across the room and flinging open the door leading out into the Hogwarts grounds. Crisp, cool air flooded into the room, and Harry felt the cold mist sting his face, contrasting nicely with the scalding water of a minute earlier.

Next, Harry hurried across the room in the direction of the large mirror he had noted earlier. Next to it sat a small table that he knew held a pitcher of eternally cold water to refresh players returning from a hard match. Harry grabbed the pitcher and a goblet off the table and hurried back to Wood as he poured.

"Here, drink as much as you can!" Harry said, passing the cup into Wood's trembling hands as he sank down onto the bench beside the naked boy. Wood nodded his thanks to Harry before turning the goblet practically upside down into his mouth, draining it in one gulp. But Harry was there to immediately refill it for him. They repeated this four or five times, until Oliver's breathing had normalized and his skin, while still hot to the touch, was no longer a matching shade of scarlet to the Gryffindor Quidditch robes.

"Oliver, what were you thinking?" Harry asked softly, now confident the older boy could comprehensively respond. "If I hadn't come to find you, you could have passed out from that heat, or worse!"

Oliver shook his head slowly. He had a rugged sort of handsomeness that came with being a Quidditch Captain, but the defeated look on his face took most of that away from him.

"I thought I'd lost-" he began.

"I know, Oliver!" Harry interjected, "I know you thought you'd lost your chance to win the Cup. But we haven't! Not yet. We've still got a fighting chance," Harry leaned forward without thinking and placed what he thought was a reassuring hand on Wood's wet thigh. "And even if we had lost our chance, that's no reason to go-"

"Not the bloody game, Potter!" Wood roared suddenly, but his voice cracked, making him seem much more fearful and vulnerable than it did intimidating. "For once I don't give a rats ass about who gets the Cup! I was talking about you, Harry. I thought I had. . . That we had lost you!"

Harry sat rooted to the spot, shocked and unable to say a word

"I saw those Dementors come at you, and I saw you fall from your broom, and my heart stopped, Harry," Wood continued in a softer voice. "I saw you fall and hit the ground. I don't even know how you survived!"

Harry opened his mouth slowly. His tongue had gone dry. He rolled it a couple of times before muttering "Spell. . . Dumbledore." Harry's hand was still firmly gripping Wood's inner thigh.

Wood nodded. "I didn't know. I thought you had to be dead already, but then they took you to the Hospital Wing. . ."

"Why didn't you come see me with the others?" Harry asked. "You would've known I'd be OK."

Another tear rolled down Oliver's face. "Because I did that to you. I was the one who trained my team to do anything and face anything to win. I was the one who drilled you to get the cup. I treated you like a means to my own glory instead of as the real people and friends you are! Of course, when you fell I didn't care about any of that, but it was too late. I didn't go with you to the Hospital Wing because I didn't want to know if you were going to be alright. Because if you weren't, then that was on me."

Harry sat there, stunned. He knew he should say something to ease his friend and captain's conscience, but all he could think of was how the skin of Oliver's thigh was at last beginning to cool down beneath Harry's fingers.

Finally, Harry managed to jerk himself back into reality. He turned his body slightly so that his knees brushed against Wood's and stared into the older boy's face. "Oliver, no! You were an amazing captain. And the whole team, we all wanted that cup just as much as you did!"

Wood gazed skeptically back at Harry, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, OK, maybe not as much as you,"Harry admitted, "but don't think we only did things to help you, or because our captain told us to. We wanted it too. We would have tried no matter what. You only gave us the skills and training for us to have a fighting chance."

Wood heaved a heavy sigh. "You're probably right, Potter. Still I can't help but blame meself. I knew the risks and I egged you on instead of telling you to be cautious. And when you fell I had all these crazy thought's in my head, like-" He broke off suddenly, as if afraid to say what was on his mind.

"Like what?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"It's. . . It's nothing, Harry. Just forget it," Wood shook his head.

"Come on, Oliver! You can tell me!" Harry urged. "No one can help you work through this if you don't talk about what you're thinking."

Wood eyes him curiously. "All right, Potter. But remember you made me tell you! So don't blame me when you hear it and hate me."

Harry blinked in surprise. "I'm not gonna hate you!"

"Yeah, sure," Oliver said, sounding unconvinced. "But here it goes anyway: the thought that came into my skull was how could I be worried about graduating a virgin when you were going to die one?" He looked away, face reddening again. Wood's hands clenched hard on the bench beneath him. He clearly regretted telling Harry the instant the words had left his mouth. His muscles were also tensed up, as if he was expecting some outburst from Harry.

Only Harry didn't know what to say or think of this. He wasn't angry at Wood, that was for sure. Harry had pressured him into telling, after all, and the older boy clearly wished he'd never thought that thought at all. But what Harry was feeling, he couldn't quite pinpoint. It was something alien for the situation he was in. Harry suddenly became, for the first time, extremely aware of his hand resting on Oliver's inner thigh, inches from the boy's manhood.

Oliver noticed it too. He stared down at Harry's hand with an unreadable look on his face. Harry didn't know what to do. If he kept his hand there then it would only lead to more awkwardness between the two. But if he moved it away Oliver might think Harry was recoiling from what he had just been told.

But suddenly Wood did something that Harry would never have expected. He reached over and placed a hand gently on top of Harry's, holding it in place. The hand was rough and calloused from the constant training as Keeper, but it was also warm and caring. Harry looked up at Wood, his eyes wide.

"It's alright, Potter," Wood said in a normal voice, sounding as if nothing about this situation seemed off to him.

Try to act natural! Harry told himself. He took a few calming breaths.

"How'd you know I was a virgin?" Harry silently swore his traitorous mouth.

Oliver blinked. "Well, I've never heard about you having sex with anyone," he said.

"So?" Harry asked. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Harry, you're thirteen!" Oliver said. "Besides, you don't know Hogwarts gossip like I do. Whenever someone has sex here, they always have one friend that they tell. Always. And they think that friend can keep a secret, but they never can. So it gets out. And you're famous! If you stuck it in anyone here, the news would spread like Dragonfire! Since I've never heard anything about it, it's safe to say nothing ever happened. So you haven't done anything here. That leaves summer break. But with the way those muggles you live with isolate you, I'd doubt you'd ever so much as made friends with a lass or lad, much less gottenfamiliar with them."

Harry was shocked by how bluntly Wood spoke. But everything he said had been true.

"What about you?" Harry blurted out suddenly. "You're a handsome Quidditch captain. Surely you've had groupies over the years? Why are you still a virgin?"

Wood laughed. "Not one to miss things, are you? That's why I made you our Seeker! Well, it's true that I've had 'groupies', but I was never interested in them."

"Why not?!"

Wood shrugged. "I just wasn't. They never, erm, got me up if you catch my meaning." He have Harry a significant look.

Harry's eyes widened again at the realization of what Wood was saying. "Oh! You mean you're-"

"You don't mind, do you?" Wood asked, sounding slightly scared. He unconsciously tightened his grip on Harry's hand.

"I don't have any reason to," Harry replied. He found his gaze sliding back to Oliver's penis. In fact, now that Harry knew Oliver was queer, he seemed unable to look away!

Wood caught his gaze and have something between a sigh and a chuckle. "I know what you're thinking, Harry, but no, me being gay doesn't mean I want to have sex with ever boy I see. You're safe."

Harry tilted his head slightly, still staring at Oliver's cock. The older boy made no move to cover himself.

"That's not what I was thinking," Harry murmured. His voice was hushed and husky.

"What?" Oliver asked, leaning forward slightly.

Harry cleared his throat. "That's not what I was thinking," he repeated, his voice stronger. Slowly, Harry began to pull his hand out from under Oliver's. The captain pulled his own hand away, looking crestfallen. He clearly thought that Harry was trying to pull away from him in disgust, despite what Harry had just told him.

But rather than pulling away, Harry reached forward and before he had time to hesitate or think he wrapped his hand around Wood's soft shaft. Harry could hear his heart beating like mad in his ear, but he ignored it, focusing on the sight in front of him.

Wood gasped, and his cock immediately started to stiffen. His pink head began to slide out of his thin foreskin, and Harry's thumb flitted over it, making Wood take a sharp intake of breath, his eyes wide.

"H-Harry! What are you-?"

"Ssshhh. . . I'm fixing things, Oliver. I trust you. Now I need you to trust yourself. And we're gonna take care of our virginity."

Harry could scarce believe what he was saying, much less what he was doing. But something about it felt right to him. He tightened his grip and Oliver moaned.

"Do you trust me?" Harry put his thumb on the tip of Oliver's hardening cock and pulled up with his hand, causing Wood's foresking to be pushed over Harry's thumbnail, quickly enveloping the first segment of his finger.

Wood let out a choked gasp and nodded quickly as he used both his hands to brace himself against the bench.

Harry stood up, letting go of Oliver's cock and pulling his thumb out from the Seventh Year's wrapper. Harry moved so that he was standing directly in front of Oliver and kicked off his shoes. Oliver watched with bated breath as Harry began to pull his scarlet Quidditch robes up over his head. They fell to the floor in a jumble, leaving Harry in only socks and plain white underwear. His pale chest was covered in goose pimples from the cold air filtering in through the open door behind Wood.

Looking down, Oliver saw a tent rising in Harry's underwear. He stared at it as Harry pulled off his socks. But when Harry slipped his fingers beneath his waistband to pull down his underwear, Oliver reached forward and grabbed them, halting his progress.

"Harry, wait. . . . Are you sure about this? You're thirteen!" Wood repeated.

Harry look him in the eye. "I'm sure, Oliver. I'm only young in looks. I've fought Voldemort three times and won! I've had all the bones removed from my arm and then grew them back. I fought the Acromantula army in the Black Forest and the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. I'm ready for this."

Wood flinched when Harry used Voldemort's name, but nodded in acceptance. "Alright, Harry," he released the boy's hands and Harry gave him a reassuring smile as he slipped his underwear down around his ankles and stepped out of them, revealing his hard cock, already over six inches long. Thin veins lined the sides of his shaft, and his foreskin was so long it completely covered his cock head even while hard.

"Harry! You're. . ." Wood was rendered speak bless by the sight before him.

Harry blushed and bit his lip, crossing his legs slightly. "I'm sorry. I know I'm not much to look at. . . "

Wood shook his head, mouth open. "What do you mean?! Harry, you're big! You'regorgeous!"

Harry looked away, ears turning red the way Ron Weasley's sometimes did. "You dot have to pretend if you don't want to, Oliver. This is for you, not me."

Oliver reached out and turned Harry's face back towards his own. "I'm not pretending, Harry. I wasn't even that big yet when I was your age. I think you look amazing! And you're wrong. This isn't for me. This is forus!"

A shy but excited smile crept across Harry's face. He uncrossed his legs and began to beam. "R-really?! You're not just saying that?"

Oliver nodded, gazing hungrily at Harry's penis. "Really, Potter."

Wood's view of Harry's privates was interrupted when the boy suddenly crouched down and moved so the he was between Oliver's legs. Once again, Harry grabbed hold of Wood's cock, stroking it twice before looking up into the older boy's face.

"Thank you, Oliver. Are you ready?"

Wood's face was beet red. He glanced over his shoulder at the door Harry had opened. "Sh-shouldn't we close that? Someone might see!"

"Let them," Harry replied. "The way you tell it, everyone will know about us tomorrow anyways. Unless, of course, we don't tell anyone~"

Harry didn't think it possible for Oliver to blush darker, but he was proven wrong as the boy's face flushed, looking more and more like a Quaffle.

"I think you need the cool air anyway, Oliver," Harry teased, giving Wood another stroke. "But if you really want it closed, I guess I could. . . "

stroke

"I could stop what I'm doing. . ."

stroke

"Get up and go all the way over there. . . "

stroke

"And the cold might make me soft again. . ."

stroke

"And then I'd shut the door and be so cold I'd have to get dressed again."

Harry smirked as he teased Wood, who moaned with each stroke Harry gave his cock.

"Oh, fuck, Harry. Leave it open then! J-just give me more!"

"With pleasure," Harry leaned forward, angling Wood's dick at his face before sliding the tip into his mouth. Harry's eyes widened with surprise as he tasted Oliver's pre. It was a new taste, neither salty nor sweet as Harry had expected it to be. Using his hands, Harry pulled down Oliver's foreskin and tentatively pushed his tongue around the older boy's smooth head.

Oliver released a hiss, causing Harry to pause. "N-no, Potter! Keep going! It's good!" The Quidditch captain said through clenched teeth. "Jus'. . . A little less teeth'd be nice."

Blushing, Harry opened his jaws slightly wider but kept his lips firmly round the cock in his mouth. Wood gave a small smile. "Thaaaatttsss it, Harry!"

Encouraged by this, Harry pushed more of Wood's cock into his mouth while letting his tongue flit over the older boy, tasting and exploring him. Harry leaned forward slightly, pushing further between Oliver's legs and using his hairy knees as support. Oliver tilted his head up and moaned softly, all his inhibitions seemingly gone.

Harry pushed the tip of his tongue into Wood's slit, then slid it down over the sensitive bottom of the older boy's head, making Wood let out a yip of pleasure. Harry grinned, starting to get the hang of it. He pushed his tongue forward so that it covered his bottom teeth and wrapped around the lower part of Oliver's dick, then slowly began to bob his head.

"Oohhh! H-Harry! God yes!" Wood groaned, closing his eyes as a muscle started twitching in his right thigh.

Harry kept going. He tried to push more of Wood's cock into his mouth, but found he couldn't go more than halfway down the shaft without gagging. But Harry also leaned that he didn't need more than that to make Oliver squirm. He simply had to make sure his tongue lapped at all the right places on Wood's cock while he continued to bob his head.

But after a few minutes of doing this, Harry heard Oliver let out a strangled gasp. Before he could move, Wood had his hands on the back of Harry's head, fingers lacing through the younger boy's still muddy hair. He pushed Harry's head down slightly, not hard enough to make Harry gag, but enough to keep Harry from pulling away from the cock in his mouth.

Oliver let out a loud, long groan and started to shoot his load into Harry's mouth. Harry let out a muffled grunt and squirmed slightly, but when he realized what was happening he calmed down and began using his tongue to lap up Oliver's cum, occasionally swiping his tongue against Wood's extra sensitive head and making the boy cry out in pleasure.

It was all over too soon for Harry. He pulled his face away from Wood's cock and wiped at his mouth with his right arm, cleaning up phantom droplets of cum even though he knew he had swallowed it all. The taste had been strange to Harry, yet also weirdly familiar. It wasn't a flavor he had tasted before, however, so he couldn't put his finger on why he felt he knew the taste. It simply felt right to him. The experience left Harry both thirsty for more and uncertain of what to do next.

But like with Harry's awkward hand placement, Oliver came in to save the day. He deftly and quietly stood up and moved Harry into his own seat, then with the speed of a Keeper he crouched down and pulled himself between Harry's legs so that their positions were switched.

Harry almost expected Oliver to suck him off in return, but it soon became apparent that the Keeper had a different plan. Wood reached up with both hands, cupping Harry's balls with his left in a way that left his fingers splayed out towards the boy's asshole, and wrapping his right around Harry's shaft. His grip was gentle yet solid as he began to stroke Harry's cock.

Harry was surprised when he heard a moan pass through his lips, and even more surprised when the pleasure hit him. Wood was letting the pads of his fingers glide over Harry's shaft, his thumb occasionally slipping just below his head. Harry watched, momentarily mesmerized as his foreskin was peeled back to reveal his pink head, wet with precum, and then as it slid back up along with a rush of pleasure.

Then Wood began pressing with two fingers just between Harry's testicles and his asshole. Harry gasped loudly and gripped the bench tightly in his hands, his knuckles turning white. This unexpected move by Oliver had boosted Harry's pleasure in a way he'd never known was possible!

"Wh-what?! Oohhhhh~" he moaned deeply, unaware of a line of drool dripping off his bottom lip. Oliver noticed it and grinned, adding more pressure behind his fingers and stroking Harry off slightly faster.

Harry lost track of time. He couldn't say if Wood kept jacking him off for 5 minutes or 5 hours more. But one thing was for certain in his mind: it wasn't long enough. Harry's eyes glazed over and he let out a cry of ecstasy as he began to shoot strands of cum up onto his chest and stomach. Wood pulled his right hand firmly down, releasing Harry's head from it's foreskin and allowing it to shoot hard and true. Oliver watched with a satisfied smirk as Harry's head spat stream after stream of hot semen from it's slit. Harry gasped and moaned through it all until his streams lost their energy and simply spilled out over Wood's hand.

When finally Harry stopped cumming, Oliver pulled both hands away, licking the cum off his right hand before standing up and snatching up his scarlet Quidditch robes and undergarments from the floor by the bench.

"You were fantastic, Harry! Thank you," he said with a grateful smile. Harry was still too breathless to respond as Oliver pulled his wand from a pocket in the robes.

"Here, I'll get you cleaned up."

Wood pointed the wand at the mess all over Harry's front and muttered "Tergeo!" All the cum on Harry's stomach and chest was immediately siphoned away, leaving the boy spotless.

"Not the most fun way to clean up," Wood said apologetically, "especially when you taste so good. But we need to get back to the Castle. It's getting late and cold. People will start to wonder where we are."

It was indeed getting late. Turning in his seat, Harry could see the already dark grey sky growing darker by the minute through the open door. Harry nodded slowly, and stood up gingerly, his knees shaking. Wood grabbed Harry's elbow and helped him stand straight, then bent down and picked up the younger boy's robes and other clothes.

"Ah, how the tables have turned, eh Potter? Now I'm helping you stand!" Wood said, laughter in his voice. All trace of his earlier sobs were gone.

Harry grinned as he took his robes from his captain. He pulled them on quickly and watched Oliver do the same. Then, together, the two boys walked out of the changing room and onto the Hogwarts grounds. The mist enveloped them, leaving no sign of the castle, but both boys knew the way by heart.

"I want to thank you, Harry. really," Wood said as they trudged up the hill. "For coming and finding me, then talking to me. And for giving me head, of course!" He added hastily. "That goes without saying. But really I want to thank you for being there for me, and letting me be there for you. It means a lot."

Harry wrapped an arm around Oliver's waist. "Of course! What else are mates for?"


End file.
